The Connection Corner

From Hardship to Hope

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

Romans 8:18

Albert Brumley had been working since sunrise, and he felt every minute of it. His back ached. His hands were raw. His mind ran in circles, weighed down by worries that had nothing to do with the field in front of him. The country was in crisis, people were struggling, and the work never seemed to end.

He exhaled hard and pressed his palm against the plow. Lord, how much longer?

That was when he saw it—a bird lifting off the fencepost. One beat of its wings and it was free, soaring higher and higher, carried by nothing but the wind.

Something deep in his chest cracked open. That’s what I want. To be lifted. To escape this heaviness.

He knew he wasn’t alone in feeling this way. He saw it in the faces around him—people carrying more than they could bear, pushing forward because they had no other choice. But what if there was something greater waiting beyond all of this? What if one day, every burden would be lifted?

That longing didn’t leave him. It stayed with him as he worked, as he walked, as he hummed a tune under his breath. A song was forming.

By the time he got home, he was writing as fast as his hands could move. That simple song—born from sweat and struggle—would go on to bring comfort to millions. It would be sung in churches, at funerals, in quiet moments when hope felt far away.

Because it wasn’t just a song. It was a promise.

Some glad morning, when this life is over
I’ll fly away
To that home on God’s celestial shore
I’ll fly away

I’ll fly away, oh glory
I’ll fly away
When I die, hallelujah, by and by
I’ll fly away

If your heart is tired, if the weight feels too much, remember this: it won’t last forever. God has prepared a place where every burden is lifted. Hold on—because on the horizon, joy is coming.

LYRICS

Some bright morning when this life is over
I’ll fly away
To that home on God’s celestial shore
I’ll fly away

CHORUS:
I’ll fly away, oh glory
I’ll fly away, in the morning
When I die, Hallelujah by and by
I’ll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone
I’ll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I’ll fly
I’ll fly away

CHORUS

Oh, how glad and happy when we meet
I’ll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet
I’ll fly away

CHORUS

Just a few more weary days and then
I’ll fly away
To a land where joys will never end
I’ll fly away

CHORUS:
I’ll fly away, fly away, oh glory
I’ll fly away, in the morning
When I die, Hallelujah by and by
I’ll fly away
I’ll fly away

April 6, 2025/by David Hall

When God Says, “It’s Time”

Daily Devotional, Lisa Williams

“The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.”

Psalms 37:23-24

J.D. stood in front of the mirror, gathering his long hair into a loose ponytail. He had waited years for this—the chance to grow it out. His Christian school had always required boys to have short hair, but once we started homeschooling, he finally had the chance to let it grow. And so, he did.

I didn’t mind it much. It was just hair, and a chance for him to figure out who he was and wanted to be. Despite the challenges of being mistaken for a girl, I knew it was crucial to support his journey of self-expression and independence. But as time passed, I found myself wondering if I was doing the right thing.

Then, one evening, he came to me and said, “Mom, do you think I should cut my hair?”

I hesitated. “Well, what do you think?”

He shrugged. “I think I want to, but I am just not sure when.”

Everything in me wanted to say, Now! Right now is a great time! But instead, I swallowed my eagerness and smiled. “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”

Weeks passed. If I ever mentioned it, his answer was the same: “Not yet.” Then, one day, he walked into my home office with his face clouded with uncertainty. “Mom, I want to cut my hair… but I’m scared. It feels like part of my identity. I don’t know who I am without it. Will you pray for me?”

So, we prayed. For clarity. For peace. For him to hear God’s voice.

The next day at work, I got a text. “Mom, I was talking to my teacher, and she told me she had a dream that I cut my hair. I think this is what I want to do! I’m ready.”

That night, as the scissors snipped through each lock, J.D. lifted his head as he studied his reflection. His smile said everything. You see, it was never about the hair, but all about how he saw himself in God’s eyes. Now, he had his answer.

Years have passed since that moment, and J.D. now stands on the edge of adulthood, facing bigger decisions than a haircut. But when I think back to that night, I am reminded: If God could guide him then, He can guide him now. And He can do the same for all of us.

Because no decision—big or small—falls outside of His care.

April 5, 2025/by Lisa Williams

Choosing Love Over Comfort

Daily Devotional, Sarah Hall

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-5

The second the car starts, the blast of cold air hits me like a wave. I fold my arms, pressing them tightly against my chest, trying to hold in the warmth.

David does not seem to notice. He sits comfortably, one hand on the wheel, humming absently to the song on the radio. I could not take it anymore, so I reached for the air dial and turned up the heat.

A few moments later, David casually turns it back down.

I say nothing. He says nothing. But my jaw tightens just slightly.

Why does he always do that? Why can’t he be the one to adjust?

I cross my arms, staring out the window, watching the world blur past in streaks of green and gray. I could argue. I want to argue. It is not about the air. Not really. It is about the principle.

But then, a thought sneaks in—Do you really have to win this?

Yes, I want to be comfortable. I want to be considered. I want my way! But after I thought about it, I realized that love—real love—doesn’t demand its way. It does not keep score or measure degrees of fairness. So, I reach into the back seat, pull a blanket over my legs, and let the cold air stay.

Jesus laid down everything for us. He did not demand His way. He gave everything. His life. His comfort. His rights.

And here I am, learning that love means choosing someone else’s well-being over my own. It is not easy. But in the moments I choose to give instead of receive, I reflect a love so much greater than my own.

So, today—maybe right now—there’s a moment where you can take the road of love too. Not because you have to, but because you can. Because love, at its core, is a choice.

April 4, 2025/by Sarah Hall